


Lone Wolf

by falsemessiah



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsemessiah/pseuds/falsemessiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>-walks into the fandom six years late with my sad-</p>
    </blockquote>





	Lone Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> -walks into the fandom six years late with my sad-

We’ve already lost. They’ve been losing since he signed on, since before there was that illusion that with Nobel Team he’d achieve something greater than he could ever do alone, allowing himself to forget the reason why he had done so in the past years. Spartans were capable, they were humanity’s next step, and their lifeless bodies were stepping stones from one world to the next world the rest of the UNSC used to push forward. To push towards victory and a sanctuary that many no longer thought existed but could only hope it was still attainable.

There wasn’t any way he was leaving Reach, he pushed his body—broken from carrying the deadweight of a spirit that knew the end was near—forward on towards Covenant activity. The red blips of his radar slowly pulling closer with each step. His rifle was heavy, the burden of millions souls resting on the barrel but he carried it with pride and he carried it into a battle with no end game.

The forces were overwhelming, enemy assaults launching from every side of the house he rested in a dark corner in while his shields recharged. There were times where the odds, not considering his current predicament, were even more so stacked against his favor. He could take a hundred, a thousand, fuck it, send the whole _fucking_ armada. Six could take them, he could take them with the bullet wound in his side, the internal bleeding, and the concussion from the plasma grenade that he was unaware he was running too close by to.

Reckless.

Six. Maybe he was the only one left, but his body was going to stay here with the others.

Five. He ran back out with guns blazing, heads bursting into an oozing bloody mess as he cleared a four foot perimeter around him and swept the oncoming forces with a dual wield of his pistol and assault rifle. Ineffective in the kill count but it slowed them down enough to allow him to reload and spray them again.

Four. Error messages lit up on the shattered visor, obscuring his vision and making it a glaring target for the forces descending upon him. This is where he was going to make that final stand, where his shoulders were almost too weary to hold himself up, his bones aching with exhaustion and loss.

Three. It was easier being alone in this fight, he had no back to watch and nobody to hold onto while they died. No moment of paralyzing fear where he realized that this was something that not even two or more Spartans could accomplish together while working in tandem, no terrifying moment where he realized that **this** was the battle in a war that he would witness every comrade being ripped from his tight grip by cold and prying fingers. He had done it already, they had paid their dues before him, and now it was time for Six to pay his own.

Two. The sear of his flesh from the plasma sword wretched through his body, cleanly sliding though and he gathered the last bit of energy he had left to take one more _just one more_ down with him.

           _Wars that united the entire human race only had an end date of extinction._

One.

And he was going to die believing he saved them all.

 


End file.
